My Crazy, Crazy World
by BlameThePlotBunnies
Summary: Teenlock AU, sort of, basically I regressed Sherlock and deleted John (for now), and kept everyone else the same. OC POV, Lestrade's daughter, Erin. Mystrade. Warning: M/M established relationship, non-graphic.
1. Chapter 1

Erin Lestrade was running. Not for the first time since she'd started secondary school nearly three years ago, either. Of course, it had been different running then. Main streets, flat out, necessary. But it was still running. She didn't even run this much in PE for God's sake! Dodging down an alley way, she threw a glance over her shoulder at her pursuers. Yep, one, two, three 14 year old girls, still there. Great. Fan-freaking-tastic. She vaulted over a low wall and dashed across someone's back garden, hurling herself at the next wall before Bree, Janice and Cara could make it over the first. Leaping the next fence, school bag banging on her hip, she found enough time to wave at the bemused three year old that watched her hurtle across his garden. Running across the next garden and dodging a pond, she heard him calling: "Mummy, there's strange girls in the garden!" She allowed herself a grin. Hopefully that'd slow them down a bit. She didn't stop running though, flinging herself over the last fence in the row and sprinting along the alley beyond. She didn't really want them to know where she lived. Then they'd chase her to school every morning, as well as chasing her home. Grabbing at a lamppost, she spun herself into a narrower alley, branching off the first at a funny angle. It was the kind of alley that brushed her arms as she ran, and she prayed she didn't meet anyone coming the other way or she'd be screwed. A few moments later, she burst out into the car park behind their local shops. Not slowing her relentless pace she pressed on, making for a black metal fire escape on a building to the left of the backs of the shops. She raced to the top, glancing over the rail once or twice and satisfying herself that she had indeed lost her unwanted tail. The rooftop was wide and flat, a raised edge running, three bricks high, around the outer most edges. Far from slowing down in her precarious position, (five floors up), Erin sped up, running straight at the opposite side of the roof, jumping at the very last second and landing on the next roof along in an unsteady crouch. She had gone searching for this new route, as well as various others, the week before term began again. She hadn't been so fast the first few times, and had bruises, a mostly healed split lip and grazed knees and elbows to show for it. She set off across the new roof at a fast walk, taking the fire escape steps two at a time, walking down the alleyway they led to and out onto a sunlit street two minutes from her dad's. Shifting her bag into a more comfortable position on her shoulder, she strode towards home, humming cheerfully. Another day she'd survived - well, there was a bruise blooming on her right shin from a moments inattention at dinner break, but other than that... Nothing anyone would notice. Nothing she might have to tell about.

Letting herself into the building and, a few minutes later, into the flat, Erin felt happy. The happiest she'd been in a while. She stepped into the living room and everything changed. She didn't face an empty living room, like usual, or even her Dad sprawled on the sofa with a beer and the football, his paperwork spread over the coffee table like he did the rare nights he beat her home. Instead she faced a pretty, well dressed young woman with neat dark hair and a blackberry in her hand, and a tall man in an immaculate three piece suit.

"Ah, Erin." Mycroft Holmes greeted her, "How was your day, dear?"

"Just dandy." She replied, dropping her bag on the chair and crossing to stand in front of him, her arms crossed; legs apart; feet planted firmly in as strong a stance as she could manage when her insides were rapidly turning to water. Whenever she came home to Mycroft and no Dad, it was never good news. "What's happened?"

"There's been a little accident, Erin. Gregory's been in a car crash." His face was schooled into its usual careful mask, but as he said the words there was a tiny flash of pain in his eyes. Mycroft Holmes telling her that her Dad had been in an accident and showing emotion about it… that was the moment that the bottom dropped out of her world.


	2. Chapter 2

She wouldn't remember a lot of the ride to the hospital, when she thought about it hard she'd have a vague impression of the inside of the magically-materialising black jag, and of a chill weight in her stomach. Standing at the foot of the bed in which her father lay, unconscious and awaiting a free operating theatre, it didn't seem to matter that much anyway. She gazed at him, her previously icy numb insides burning with pain. It didn't matter in the slightest what she could remember of today, the only thing that mattered a toss was whether the man before her, the man who had raised her, fought to keep her, cared for her and worried about her, all that mattered was that he live.

"I love you Dad." She said, softly, as a nurse came in to usher her out into the corridor. "Come back to me." She added, then stepped outside and went, numbly, in search of somewhere to sit and wait.

The tiny waiting room was empty, a TV playing away to itself in one corner. She sat down and stared at it, but saw none of the news of rail strikes and political speeches and celebrity blunders. Instead it seemed to her the TV was playing a movie of their lives. They'd been just fine, she recalled, just the two of them. Okay, the divorce had been messy, but it was over, and life was getting back to normal. Life was good, and seemed set on getting better. Dad had met Mycroft - she didn't remember how - and he was happy, for the first time she could remember, he laughed and joked and smiled every second of the day. It had been, oh, a few months after she met Mycroft for the first time - probably about a year after he and Dad had started dating - that she first heard about Sherlock. Dad must have known, she knew, but the first she heard of Mycroft's equally oddly named little brother had been a conversation on their sofa one cold October afternoon, seconds after Mycroft had taken a phone call from his mother:-

"I'll have to go, Gregory, Mummy's out of her depth." He had said, snapping his phone shut

"Everything alright, love?" Dad had replied, his brow creasing

"Sherlock's gotten himself expelled."

"Again?" Her father had said, sympathetically.

"Again. Honestly, there will soon be no school left that will have him!" Mycroft grabbed his jacket and hurried from the flat, texting as he went.

"Who's Sherlock?" Erin enquired, when he had gone.

"My's baby brother."

"Mycroft has a brother?"

"Yeah, Sherlock's about… oh, must be sixteen."

"Not that much older than me, then." She said, returning to her homework.

"No, he's a right oddball though. A bit too bright, you know? Not so good with people. Awkward."

Erin stretched a little, glancing at the clock on the wall, then fixing her gaze back on the telly.


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner at the Holmes mansion. Oh God, she didn't dare touch anything, it all looked so expensive. The fire in the dining room burned furiously hot, but the atmosphere was ice. She was seated - yes, with an actual place card - next to Sherlock. When she sat down, he smiled and introduced himself. His father had frowned darkly at him, and reminded him that children should be seen and not heard. Neither he nor Erin had said another word throughout the entire meal. He hadn't eaten much, she had noticed, and apparently this was a regular occurrence, for midway through the meal, his father's voice had boomed again "Sherlock! Eat properly, boy!" The next one was: "Sherlock! Sit up straight!" Erin had glanced at him in surprise, for she was slouching far more than he was, and she was sitting up as straight as she could. The look on his face had made her want to shiver. It was like a mask, no trace of emotion, and certainly no trace of the warmth there had been when he had smiled at her. The picking faults had continued for the whole evening. She had honestly expected to hear "Sherlock! Don't breathe!" at some point. God, how did anyone live like that? She couldn't have done it. She wished she could have a proper chance to speak to him, and was glad when such a chance came. She had asked, incredibly politely, if she might, please, use their bathroom. Mr Holmes sr. had responded with "Sherlock, show Erin to the bathroom."

"So," She had begun, conversationally, as they walked side by side up the wide, red-carpeted staircase. "Is there an imaginary fault that you don't have?"

Sherlock looked at her for a long moment, and then suddenly the mask he had been wearing vanished and he chuckled "I doubt it." he smiled at her. They walked along a corridor in comfortable silence.

"I didn't see them." Erin said, eventually, as they turned a corner.

"See what?" Sherlock asked,

"The imaginary faults." She clarified.

"Oh. Thank you." His smile got brighter "That's the bathroom." He pointed with one long finger at the door now directly to her left.

"Thanks." She paused, halfway through the door, turning back to face him, one hand resting on the doorframe. "Um, can you wait? I think I might get lost coming back."

"Of course." As she closed the door behind her, she saw him lean against the opposite wall, crossing his arms. Quietly she fumed. How could somebody pick faults so constantly with someone so… nice? Was it really any wonder he was so difficult at school? She thought of her dad, telling her how proud of her he was whenever she got a good grade on an assignment or a test. She thought of the hugs when she was sad, and of the laughter they shared. The poor kid was probably starving for a bit of affection.

"That," Her father had said, when Mycroft had left after dropping them back at the flat "was brutal."

"Yep."

"I'm sorry. My's not got a very nice family, has he?"

"Sherlock's alright." She had replied, cautiously.

"He is?"

"Yeah, he's nice." She threw caution to the wind "I don't see why his dad picked so many faults with him."

"Well, My did say Sherlock was being a bit awkward lately…" Dad had replied, but he looked and sounded rather sceptical.

"Dad, he was a gentleman."

"Yeah, he was wasn't he."

"It's not fair."

"Life isn't love." He'd said, gently, then sent her to bed.

Erin glanced again at the clock. How could it possibly have moved that little? She wondered, before her eyes drifted back to the TV.


	4. Chapter 4

Erin knew she shouldn't be listening through the closed living room door but she figured it was too late now, she already was.

"Mummy and Father have had enough of him, Gregory. They want him to stay with me, but he point blank refuses."

"Is there no one he'll go to?"

"No, no other relatives would even consider having him in the house, most of them have already suffered through him once. He insists he'll be fine by himself, but he's just sixteen! I wouldn't trust him alone overnight, let alone permanently! I just don't know what I'm going to do with him."

"My…" Her dad had said it slowly, thoughtfully. Erin's heart leapt. She knew she could count on his soft heart. "I could take him. There's the spare room, we could try him at Erin's school… It could work."

"Gregory, are you sure? Sherlock's… difficult at the best of times."

"It's worth a shot, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, but… how would Erin take it? Another child in the house?"

"Erin would be delighted!" Erin had called, forgetting they didn't know she was there. She slapped a hand over her mouth and ran back to her room.

Erin caught herself smiling at the memories as she looked across to the clock this time. Somehow, within the course of one meeting, she had become irrevocably tied to this boy. He was her brother, blood or no; she now knew him better than anyone, and yet she still didn't know why- no, she wasn't going to think about that just yet. She would allow herself to drown in the good times for a bit. Her eyes drifted idly back to the TV.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock had joined them at teatime the next day. Apparently he'd been more willing to go and live with people he'd met for one evening than he was to stay with any member of his family. That was sad and, Erin felt, probably proved her point. Food was a curious affair. Dad had asked him what he liked to eat when he arrived, citing the need to go food shopping anyway. Sherlock had said he'd eat anything except sushi, parma violets or fish fingers.

"I've never had sushi…" Erin said, after Dad had headed out to the shop. They were sitting on her bed, Erin cross-legged and Sherlock perched, peering around the room with interest.

"Don't." He advised, promptly.

Erin grinned "So, what do you do in your free time?"

"I play violin. I read. I experiment. I deduce people."

"Deduce people?"

"Yes. For example I know that you love your father very much, but you miss your mother; you only chose to stay with your father full time because you knew she'd make it difficult for you to see him."

"Um."

"You'd never tell him that, of course, but if he really looked, he'd notice."

"Okay, spill."

He smiled, "The photos. You chose to stay full time with your father, but every photo in this room features your mother."

Erin looked around. "Okay, now _I_ hadn't even noticed that."

"You dance."

"I do. Tap, Jazz, Irish, bit of Street Dance at school, and I took ballet when I was five, but that didn't go well."

"Why not?"

"I broke my ankle at my third class. We decided it wasn't for me."

Sherlock snorted with mirth, "Perhaps it was for the best."

"Definitely best for the girl I fell on." Erin giggled,

"Without a doubt." He grinned back

"What kind of thing do you read then?"

"Science journals mostly, and the crime pages in the papers."

"You and Dad are gonna have some dead interesting chats then."

"That pun was awful."

Erin thought about it for a second. "That pun was unintentional." She retorted.

"It was still awful."

"I agree."

"Erin! Sherlock! Food!" Greg Lestrade's voice broke into the conversation from the direction of the front door.

"Coming Dad!" Erin called, before grinning and adding to Sherlock: "Oh goody, he's been to the chippy! He always does when it's food shop night. C'mon Sherls."

"Sherls?"

"You don't like it?"

"Actually, it's fine. Cher is a God-awful singer and if you ever call me Lock, I will hang you out of the window by your ankles."

"I like Sherls, actually."

"That's just as well then." He grinned, winking at her.

As usual Dad had let them serve themselves and, though Erin observed that Sherlock didn't put a huge amount on his plate - just a small sausage and a handful of chips - he did eat everything he had put there. Erin thought of the hugely piled plates - three courses too! - that they had been presented with at the Holmes Manor that night. Even she had been hard pressed to eat everything that had been put in front of her, and she could normally put away more than the rest of her class at school put together! Permanently over-faced, perhaps? She wondered, idly tossing another chip into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. To be fair, when you were most definitely a 'have' rather than a 'have-not', going without something was probably the only real novelty.

Hark at her! She'd turned into a right little Freud, psycho-analysing Sherlock that first night. She'd been right though, she thought to herself, registering that she'd now been sat here for an hour and a half. Well, the doc had said it would be a long op, seeing as they'd have to put pins in her dad's knee, as well as seeing to the other damage of the impact. Honestly, all those times her mother had warned him against 'that bloody bike' and he had to go and get his sitting in a stationary police car! She sighed. What was he like?! She didn't have much time to ponder though - which was probably just as well - the TV and the memories were calling to her.


	6. Chapter 6

"You have to go to school, Sherlock!"

"I do not see the point. I will know more than the teachers anyway!"

Erin admired Sherlock's nerve, starting an argument on his first morning in a strange house. She also had to run to her father's rescue.

"Oh, come on Sherls, if you stay home, Dad'll only stay too and see that you don't have any fun. Right Dad?"

"Damn straight."

"That would be a pointless exercise for both of us, and your superiors would not approve." Sherlock announced, with an air of finality.

"Yeah, well, they won't approve if I don't send you to school either. That's illegal you know."

"Laws are boring."

"You'd have to talk to your brother about that. You can call him tonight, when you get home from school."

"I won't be 'getting home from school', because I am not going."

"Yes, you are."

"I am not. You cannot make me."

"I can, and so help me god, if I have to carry you there myself and tie you to the chair, you are going to school and that is final."

"Everyone is entitled to their opinions I suppose."

"It's a shame yours are wrong isn't it? You're going to school and that's flat."

"It's not that bad, Sherls, honest." She assured him, as they walked down the road away from the flat.

"Honestly."

"Yes." She said, fervently.

"No, 'honest_ly'_, not 'honest'. If your English is a testament to your schooling then your classmates will benefit from my attendance."

"That's the spirit!" She had said, brightly, ignoring the fact that she'd just been insulted in favour of hopefully ensuring Sherlock's continued attendance of school.

They were waiting for her again. She dawdled putting on her coat, pretending to hunt for something in her bag and hoping they'd go away. No such luck. She settled her bag firmly on her shoulder with the strap across her body so it couldn't fall. She gritted her teeth and walked out of the cloakroom towards her fate, thinking that perhaps it was best Sherlock had gotten tired of waiting for her and left some time ago. In her peripheral, she could see them, standing up on the steps, three of them, their eyes all fixing on her. Whispers reached her ears, though she didn't trouble herself with discerning what they were. They were insults, invariably, why bother. They moved in her direction. She kept walking; turned right out of the gate and then she _ran_.

The pounding of feet was getting closer, too close for comfort. She pushed herself for extra speed, sprinting flat out, there was no other way, she had to get _away_. Her own pulse thundered in her ears, and she tried to match its tempo with her feet. Now was not the moment to think of her burning limbs and lungs, now was the moment to focus on the running, to let her aching to be home safely fill her up and give her the speed and strength to get there. She rounded a corner, narrowly avoiding a boy on a bike and an elderly woman with a trolley, she tuned out the mutterings about kids having no respect for anyone and ran on, as fast as those burning limbs could carry her. She heard them round the corner behind her - a renewed outbreak of mutinous mutterings - and knew that she was done. She was still streets from home and she was exhausted. Mentally she calculated her chances of winning out in a competition of brute force against the three of them. Slim. Very slim. She could hide… but she'd need to get well ahead of them. She couldn't afford another beating. Dad had noticed her wincing when she moved after the last one. It needed to be a good long time before that happened again. Oh the joys of being an Inspector's daughter! They were close. Too close. She couldn't flee; she couldn't win; she mustn't lose- and then she felt a tight grip around her right arm, spinning her. She came round with her fists raised, ready to throw a good punch, but another hand, bigger and stronger than hers caught her fist before she could and she found herself being hauled, not into a hailstorm of fists and abuse, but into a darkened alley she'd never noticed before. The face a few inches away and above hers was familiar.

"Run with me." Sherlock's warm baritone hummed around her and she found herself complying, her right hand still encased in his left as he dragged her on for the most bizarre run of her life.

They'd probably lost them by the time they reached the first rooftop, but Sherlock didn't slow, pulling her to the edge, she sprung just in time or she'd have dragged them down. She didn't glance backwards to the seven storeys they'd have plummeted if she had been half a second slower, but she assured him as they ran on "You're mad, you are! Brilliant, but bloody mad!"

His laughter carried on the air around them as they ran for home.

That laugh, Erin reflected as she checked the clock for what felt like the hundredth time, that laugh made you want to join in; to say something funny so he'd never stop laughing. It was a beautiful sound, Sherlock's genuine laugh, beautiful and rare. So rare that she could count its appearances on one hand. So beautiful that she remembered every one exactly. She wished she could hear it now, just once more. The clocked ticked loudly, more time trickling away.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Very short chapter, I apologise but it's necessary I'm afraid xxx**

They ran together every day after that. He showed her how to pick her route; how to judge the best places to cross gaps between buildings; the safe places to hide. This might have been her part of the city, but the backstreets and rooftops were undisputedly his turf. Gradually they built up a mental map of the area, the best routes highlighted by more accusations of brilliant madness; by grins and by laughter. Erin stopped worrying that one day her father would find out she had never once actually_ walked_ home from school, because it didn't matter anymore. Sherlock stopped complaining about having to go to school, although nothing ever stopped him complaining about the students' ignorance because, as he'd said when Greg had offered him the chance to have some friends to dinner "I tolerate being around them each day, that doesn't mean I have to _like_ them!"

Erin grinned, remembering the face her dad had pulled as he shrugged in response. She had christened it his 'I never will understand Sherlock' face. Another quick glance at the clock showed her that she'd bypassed the two hour mark by ten minutes. All of those wonderful moments, gone within two hours. The TV wasn't providing anymore, so she hunted desperately for more of the good times. She wasn't sure she could bear for it to all go so wrong just yet.


	8. Chapter 8

There'd been the summer holidays, of course, day after day of bright sunshine making a nice change from the typical British weather. The first three days even Sherlock slept late, despite his usually erratic sleep pattern. Well they had to make up for the drain that was school somehow, Erin reasoned. The fourth day, they'd gone into the city centre in search of entertainment. They'd gone to see Mr Bean's Holiday at the cinema after wandering for a while. At least Sherlock had been amused by it instead of complaining about the plot the whole way through like he had at the last three movies they'd gone to see… although that might have been the jelly beans. Oh yes, she had discovered the one secret to a polite and pliant Sherlock. Jelly beans. They'd started appearing all over the flat. Under the kitchen table; in the bowl by the door where they kept keys and loose change; in Sherlock's bedside table; in her coat pockets; in the drawer of art supplies; in the bottom of Sherlock's backpack; in his violin case; and Dad had gone ballistic when he'd found a handful of them stuck, congealing, to the bottom of the pages of one of his reports when he pulled it out of his bag one evening. He'd never found any there again. Although, there had been one occasion when he'd put his hand in his coat pocket and come out with it coated with some suspect fruity smelling pink goo that may very easily once have been a jelly bean or two.

They'd gone bowling in the second week, her and Sherlock and Dad and Mycroft. Sherlock hadn't even complained about Mycroft being there for once. To be fair, by that point, he'd mellowed out rather a lot and stopped complaining about most things, so they probably shouldn't have been surprised. They'd spent the whole evening laughing, but they'd laughed the hardest when Erin had assured Sherlock she would 'beat his sorry ass' at bowling and then promptly managed (somehow, god knew how!) to throw the ball behind her instead of down the alley on her next turn.

"Erin, please forgive me if I do not worry too much about the possibility of you beating me." Sherlock had said. Well no, he'd been on the floor next to the bench, clutching his sides and laughing so hard what he'd actually _said_ was more like… Well, it was next to unintelligible, but he'd assured her later that that was exactly what he had said.

She glanced at the clock. Two hours, twenty-eight minutes. The TV was running by itself again, and her eyes were dragged back to it.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N Unforgivably short chapter but... you'll forgive me right? xxx**

She'd gone with Sherlock to collect his GCSE results. She'd never tell a soul how he'd crept out of his bedroom window onto the fire escape, along it and clambered in hers the night before to have his last minute panic. He'd passed, of course he had, passed and passed well. Top marks in every subject barring PE, but that was compulsory, and in both of their opinions, just didn't count.

He'd confessed to her over ice cream in a parlour on their way home that he'd been to one maths lesson the whole time he'd been with them, and only gone to science classes that were suitably gory. She'd laughed. Of course he'd gotten A*'s without an ounce of teaching. That was the kind of person he was.

Two hours, thirty six minutes.


	10. Chapter 10

Greg Lestrade strode into the flat and dumped a brightly coloured booklet between them on the kitchen table where Sherlock had the crime pages of that day's paper spread out and Erin was sorting photos into her album.

"What's this?" Erin asked, reaching for the booklet.

"Butlin's." Sherlock announced, without looking up

"Yes, I can see that. I meant, why?" Erin looked up at her father with an inquisitive expression on his face. He smiled at her.

"Because we've not had a half decent holiday in a while, and because you're both being so good, and because Sherls deserves something after sitting his exams, and… well, because we all deserve a bloody good holiday."

Erin grinned, jumping up to hug him "When, when?!"

"Thursday to Thursday. Late bookings equals cheap holiday. Good idea then?"

Before Erin could reply, Sherlock answered for her "Brilliant idea!" he was grinning too, and even allowed himself to be dragged into the hug, something he never normally allowed. It had been a great day all round.

Butlin's had been truly wonderful. There was a photo on the fridge at home of the three of them arm in arm on the Promenade, wearing silly hats and massive grins.

She and Sherlock had shared a bedroom that looked out onto the resort's beach. They'd woken each day to the sounds of the waves and the gulls. Though technically, the first day, she'd been woken by Sherlock just as the sun was coming up and urged to put on her swimsuit and go with him. After that, they'd climbed out of the window and slipped through a hole in the fence onto the beach for an early morning swim every day they were there.

They'd found caves and hidden in them, playing at being pirates and smugglers for hours. She'd been surprised at Sherlock's willingness to play pretend with her, thinking his age would make him reluctant. To be fair, at 13, she'd been too old to be playing pretend really, but it had been magic, and Sherlock had turned out to be the very best pirate she'd ever seen. He had the voice and the swordsmanship down to a fine art. Captain Holmes, the skurge of the seven seas, (or at the very least, the skurge of the rock pools) and his daring young first mate, Erin the Evil, the only lady ever to make his crew.

She'd ridden her first rollercoaster, despite being terrified of heights, just because Sherlock had held her hand the whole time. She remembered wishing she'd known him longer, because then she'd always have a had a big brother to hold her hand when she was scared.

And right at that moment, she wished he was here, holding her hand even though he was as scared as she was. Where was he? Why had he- She closed her eyes against the tears, but found the TV had used this three hours to get inside her head.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N Fair warning, this one's feels-y xxx**

Sherlock had claimed he felt ill on the way to school one day in September. He did look paler than normal too, and sweaty, though his hands were cold. Erin had been worried about him. Halfway there, he'd said he was going home. She hadn't argued, he looked like hell. She'd insisted on walking him back, and the teachers had been okay when she'd explained why she was late.

She'd called home at lunch, but gotten no answer. She hoped he was sleeping off whatever bug he'd got.

She ran all the way home - it wasn't like that wasn't normal, but if it hadn't been normal, she'd still have done it - and let herself into the flat. The first thing that struck her was the silence. No noise, not a creak of a bedspring, not a breath. The house was as silent as the grave. That particular thought, occurring once she'd poured two glasses of ginger ale, sent her almost running to Sherlock's bedroom with the glasses. She didn't know what she'd expected to find, but it wasn't a neatly made empty bed. After a moment it struck her how tidy the room was. No books, no newspapers scattered around, not even a single jelly bean… when she noticed Sherlock's prized violin was gone and in its usual place rested a plain white envelope, it really hit her. The glasses smashed on the carpet, shards of glass flying in all directions, ginger ale splashing up her legs and soaking her socks. She didn't notice. The only thing she saw was that plain white envelope. She grabbed it, tearing in open with indecent haste and unfolding the paper within.

Greg and Erin.

Thank you. It's been nothing short of perfect being here.

I'm sorry, but I cannot stay any longer.

Sherlock

Dimly, she registered the front door opening; the sound of her dad calling their names; the sound of her own voice, hysterical, screaming for him to come. She'd handed him the note. He'd called Mycroft while he held her tight, tears on both their faces. They'd not seen Sherlock since.

First that, and now this. There were hundreds of people in this hospital, but Erin Lestrade had never felt so alone in her life. Scrambling to her feet she crossed the room and pressed the power button on the TV. The screen went black. The silence was deafening. She crossed back to her seat and sat, pulling her feet onto the seat and wrapping her arms around her knees. After a moment, she buried her face there too. The tears fell silently, though she felt there was no one to hear them.

Three hours, six minutes.


	12. Chapter 12

Erin kept her face hidden in her knees when she heard the door to the waiting room open. She wasn't in the mood for small talk by any stretch of the imagination. She thought it odd that no footsteps immediately followed the creak of the opening door, but assumed that whoever it was was surprised to see her there or something. It was her turn to be surprised when the footsteps crossed to her; someone sat down in the seat beside her and wrapped her suddenly in their arms. A familiar cologne filled her nostrils. A sixteen year old - seventeen now - that wore cologne. It could only be…

"Sherlock!" She exclaimed, as she lifted her face from her knees and threw herself into his embrace properly. Sherlock wasn't a huggy person, but those he gave were good hugs.

"I'm so sorry, Erin. I should have been here."

"Yes you should!" She growled, but she didn't let him go.

"I'm sorry."

"You left us! Why did you go? We were happy."

"I… Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side."

"Bollocks! That's bollocks and you know it!"

"It's fact. I couldn't afford to care, about either of you. About anyone."

"Why the hell not?"

"Alone is what I have, alone protects me."

"Your family protect you, you numpty!"

"And they get hurt, and you get hurt. All people die and all hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage.

"Not that I'm not glad you did, but… if caring is such a bloody disadvantage, why come back now then?"

"I heard about Greg… and I realised it was too late to run, I already cared too much."

She regarded him solemnly for a moment and then replied, simply: "We missed you."

"I…" He swallowed, hard. "I missed you too."

After a few moments they broke the hug, Erin dropping her feet to the ground "How is he?" Sherlock asked, tentatively.

"Busted knee, fractured elbow, cuts and some superficial scrapes and bruises. He's been in surgery…" She glanced at the clock. "Three hours, twenty-seven minutes now."

"Did you see him, before?"

"Yeah."

"How did he seem?"

"They were keeping him sedated, case he made anything worse."

"Oh." He reached out and took her hand, squeezing gently. Erin squeezed back, reassuring herself that he was real.

Three hours, twenty-nine minutes.


	13. Chapter 13

At four hours, twelve minutes, a man in a white coat approached them. He explained that Greg was out of surgery now and that the operation had gone to plan. He would give them no more detail as they were both underage. Sherlock tried every trick in his (sizable) book to get the doctor to let slip something, anything, but to no avail. He sulked for a few minutes after the doctor had left again; and it was during this time that Erin finally noticed the absence of DS Donovan. Well, alright, it wasn't uncommon for Sally personally not to be there, but it was odd for there to be no representatives of NSY hanging around to find out if 'the boss' was still going to be around to yell at them when they got behind on paperwork. No sooner had she thought it than Sally herself stuck her head around the door.

"Hey Erin, love, any new-" Her eyes fell on Sherlock "Oh, so you're back, are you?"

Sherlock raised a haughty eyebrow "Obviously." Needless to say, he and Sally did _not_ get on and, in Erin's opinion, probably never would. It didn't help that Sherlock would insist on deducing her love life.

"Realised it's not easy to live off your own back did you? Or-"

"Sally…" Erin broke in, her tone pleading, but Sherlock waved her down lazily

"No no, Erin, let the Sergeant have her say. Go on, Donovan, tell me what you think of me, do!" He goaded, his eyes suddenly sparkling darkly.

Sally glared at him for a moment "I'm going to go find out about the boss." She stalked out of the door and Erin breathed a sigh of relief. A satisfied smirk played around the corners of Sherlock's mouth right until the moment Sally stuck her head back around the door "They cried for you, Sherlock Holmes, and I bet you don't even care, do you?! You wanna know what I think of you? I think you're an ungrateful little freak!" she spat, with venom. And with that, she withdrew from the room again. She didn't notice the surprise that flitted across Sherlock's face at her words.

"You cried for me?" He asked, after a long moment.

"We did." Erin replied, truthfully. The silence that fell was no different to before, Erin knew, it only seemed louder, the tick of the clock suddenly the most impossibly intrusive sound she'd ever heard. "Where did you go Sherls?" She asked, softly, after a while.

"All over the place at first." He replied, equally softly "Acquaintance to acquaintance and, eventually to a… a friend. It had to be people Mycroft didn't know about."

"Why?"

"Why?" he repeated, wrinkling his nose in confusion

"You'd been better with us, I'm sure Mycroft would have set you up with a place if you'd asked."

"I…" Sherlock looked sheepish

"Pride?"

"In part." He admitted

"Oh yeah? What was the rest?"

"I…"

"You've said that bit before." Erin said, when it was clear he was going to say no more, a jokey half smile grazing her lips.

"I couldn't be near. I'd have hurt you all."

"You hurt us all going away, Sherls."

"I know that, now!"

"So why couldn't you stay?"

"I had to g-" His voice dropped below audible for the last few words of the sentence

"Can't hear you, Sherls."

Sherlock cleared his throat "I had to get clean." He said, clearly and calmly, although he couldn't meet her eye.

"You weren't… using… were you?"

Sherlock nodded, biting his lip and gazing fixedly into the distance. "Cocaine. Long before I came to you." He licked his lips "I never stopped, I got so good at hiding it, but it was getting out of control, and I was happy where I was, and I knew my… _little habit_, would ruin it all, and- and it just seemed better to… terminate the arrangement, than to hurt anyone. I didn't realise that would…" He turned his head suddenly to look straight at her "I never meant to hurt you both, I swear it."

Erin nodded, slowly. "We'd have helped you."

"I know you would, but, trust me, I was _horrible_ while I was detoxing. No one deserves that… except perhaps Sergeant Donovan." He added, thoughtfully.

Choosing to ignore the slight, considering, Erin simply turned to the main point "So you're…"

"Clean? Oh, yes. Five months clean."

"Wow. Well done you!"

"Thanks."

"And your 'acquaintances', they were okay with you detoxing in their houses?"

"That… didn't work. I tried. Too many of my acquaintances were dealers or addicts for that to be a viable option… No, I detoxed at a friend's."

"I thought you didn't have friends?"

"So did I."

"So who..?"

Licking his lips, Sherlock glanced at the door and then back at Erin. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Sherls-"

"No, no, look it's nothing like that, it's just… Greg will think it was… irresponsible. And it probably was."

Erin gave him a look that, coupled with crossing her arms, said loud and clear she was making no promises.

Sherlock sighed. "I left my last acquaintance as high as the proverbial kite. I didn't know where to go, so I just sat down in an alley and enjoyed the buzz. I hadn't eaten in… a while, I guess I must've passed out… I woke up to this guy-"

Erin made a face

"No, I've told you, it's not like that!" Sherlock said, impatiently "He was taking my pulse, and he must've realised I was awake because he started talking to me… He seemed to know I was high, and I thought he must've been a cop and I… well, I tried to run."

Erin 'tsk'ed disapprovingly

"I know, I know. Obviously, being less than well fed and under the influence, I didn't get very far before I fell on my face again."

"Dignified."

"Wasn't it? Anyway, this guy, John his name is, he was trying to help me up, telling me he was a training to be a doctor - he's not much older than me, just twenty - and he kept saying it was okay. He had a flat, he said, just round the corner, and he said he'd look after me. There were warning bells, of course, but then…" He threw another wary glance at the door, licking his lips again.

Erin spared a second to wonder if the doctor was telling Sally Dad's entire medical history, as well as how the operation had gone, she'd certainly been gone long enough!

"I know it sounds corny," Sherlock continued, dragging her from her thoughts "and I swear it's not, y'know, romantic" he looked disgusted at the very thought "but I just caught sight of his eyes and suddenly… I knew I could trust him."

Erin raised an eyebrow.

"I said it was corny…" Sherlock huffed "He just looked kind, okay?!" He added defensively. Erin suppressed a grin. "Anyway, I went with him and he _did_ look after me. I'd never have gotten clean without him."

"So, you just stayed with a random stranger?"

"Well, Greg was always saying I should make new friends…"

"I don't think that was _quite_ what Dad meant, somehow…" Erin couldn't help but smile. Trust Sherlock to find a way to make total recklessness seem like the logical course of action!

Sherlock grinned back at her, "Perhaps not, but the principle was the same."

"Mm, I'm sure." Erin replied, with the air of one humouring a child.

Sherlock ignored the veiled insult and carried on "I'd have come back sooner, only…" He hesitated and lowered his voice a little, glancing again at the door "I knew one of Mycroft's many access codes, so I looked at some CCTV… with you and Greg in…"

"You spied on us?"

"I wanted to know how you were. I told myself I just wanted to test the waters, see if you might want me to come back, but I suppose I was beginning to realise I cared." He let that hang for a minute and Erin squeezed his hand, gently, letting him know she'd forgiven him "Well, you both looked… happy enough. So I decided not to come back."

Erin looked sharply at him.

"I told myself it was for the best, convinced myself you two didn't need me and my problems, and was… well, I was thoroughly miserable, if we're being honest. I think John was quite worried about me, about the possibility I might relapse, I suppose… and I nearly did. I'd even managed to purchase the stuff. I'd seen only endless patience from him until he found that. I've never felt so guilty in my life. Somehow he got it out of me, that I wasn't going back and, well, it was quite _emotional_." He spoke the word with such distaste that Erin had to smile. "But he convinced me to come back and at least visit, we were going to do that tonight, but I came to meet John from a class here but there are a couple of Yarders standing guard over someone in A&E, and I overheard one of them saying to the other that DI Lestrade had been in a car accident and… ugh, more emotions." He shuddered

Erin hugged him, suddenly.

"What was that for?"

"Just because."

They were interrupted at that moment by the arrival of Mycroft Holmes, who took one look at his brother and said "About time too, dear brother." Before turning to Erin and enquiring "Have they told you anything new Erin, dear?"

"The op went fine, but they wouldn't tell minors anything else. Sally went to ask a while back but…" Erin glanced at her watch "It's been a _long_ while."

"The incompetent woman has probably gotten herself hopelessly lost." Sherlock said, scathingly.

"Oi, less of that, freak!" Sally's voice came from the direction of the corridor, followed momentarily by Sally herself. At the word 'freak', Mycroft frowned slightly, but was immediately distracted by what came next. "I've been into see him. He's awake, if drugged up on morphine. He wants to see you, Erin, and you Myc" She said to Mycroft before turning to Sherlock "I haven't told him you're back yet. Didn't know if you were staying or not."

"Oh you don't get rid of me that easy, Sally, dear." Sherlock replied, smoothly.

"Oh bitch later you two, I wanna go see Dad!" Erin exclaimed, slipping between Sally and Mycroft and heading out of the door.

"Right, well, if you're staying with the kids, Myc, I'll be off." Sally said. Mycroft nodded his agreement and, towing an indignant Sherlock behind him, followed Erin towards the private room in which Greg lay.


	14. Chapter 14

Erin was sitting on the edge of the bed, Greg's good arm wrapped around her shoulder, the other encased in a sling and a dark blue plaster cast. They both looked up when Mycroft appeared. He and Erin shared a significant look as he stood in the doorway.

"I was just telling Dad, Myc" Erin said, grinning "that he'll never guess who couldn't be satisfied with just sending a get well card!"

Mycroft smiled "Well, quite." He agreed, then stepped to one side to reveal a very sheepish looking Sherlock - who would deny looking sheepish wholeheartedly when asked - standing in the doorway. Erin took mental photos of her Dad's face. Every emotion from hurt to hysterical and everything in between flashed past as she watched, and then he settled on delighted. Satisfied, Erin got to her feet, sliding quietly from his grip and leaving his good arm free for hugging their little runaway. If even a single tear soaked into Greg's shirt while Sherlock's face was buried in his surrogate father's shoulder, then Greg certainly wasn't telling. If Sherlock's eyes looked suspiciously red and damp when he stepped back from the hug, then no one was going to be the one to mention it, but no one could doubt that he regretted leaving.

"I bet you've got a story or two to tell us." Greg said, dragging the boy down into another hug. Sherlock sighed

"It's long, and there's all these _emotions_ in it." He warned, in the same distasteful tone as before.

"Oh god no, not _emotions!_" Greg replied, with a grin and a slight slur borne of the morphine "You might have to tell me twice then. Everything's all fuzzy at the mo." Sherlock nodded, wondering how to make it less complicated. Before he could figure it out though, Greg interrupted his thoughts with a question he could answer "Are you home now though? For good I mean?"

"If… if you'll have me, then I'd like to be."

"If, bollocks! You might have to dust your bedroom though."

"Oh good! Plenty of samples!" Sherlock replied, looking delighted at the prospect. Greg rolled his eyes and then looked at him expectantly. Sherlock's delight slipped away and he embarked on telling his story for the second time that evening.

When they left, sometime later, kicked out by the nurses, everyone was smiling. Sherlock was the last one out. Halfway out of the door, he caught sight of John, standing in the corridor waiting for him. They shared a quick smile and a thought occurred to him. He half turned back, a hand resting on the doorframe.

"Greg… You remember what you said about having a friend over sometime?"

"Vaguely." Greg smiled, remembering

"Well, can I? When you're better I mean."

"You wanna invite this John over?"

"If it's okay."

"Course it's okay. I wanna meet your friends, it's my job."

"Are you going to vet him?" Sherlock joked with a half smile

"Nah, that's your brothers job!"

Sherlock grinned

"One condition though."

"What is it?"

"Promise me you won't run off again. I'd rather you give me a heart attack from three feet away than because you've run away, okay?"

"I was always coming back."

Greg gave him the look. The parent one that said 'I don't believe your shit'. Apparently even morphine couldn't diminish that look in the slightest.

"I promise." Sherlock said, softly. "Goodnight." He added, as he finally stepped into the corridor to join the others.

**A/N Phew! There we are, Greg's alive - even if he will be hopping and doing things one handed for a while - and Sherlock came home_ and_ made a friend and they'll all live a very non-canon happily ever after. There is a follow up chapter to come, if I ever get time, but between my new goddaughter, two very energetic kittens and Uni, it's a miracle I got this lot out! Un-beta-ed, as usual, so if you spot anything wrong, (or even anything you liked, I'm not fussy), do please give me a nudge ;) **


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